


The Way We Were

by mathildia



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Begging, Blackmail, Bondage, Boot Worship, Choking, Daddy Kink, Desperation, Dubious Consent, HYDRA Trash Party, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Reluctant Submission, Sadist Rumlow, Seduction, dual time line, homophobic slurs used in a sexual context, like a lot, steve rogers calling brock rumlow daddy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-26
Updated: 2015-09-14
Packaged: 2018-04-01 09:30:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4014595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mathildia/pseuds/mathildia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Rumlow dipped his head, touched his chin to his chest and looked up at Steve. It was odd, sort of innocent. And that was just weird. “Yeh, I know” he said. “But I’m serious; don’t want things to change.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Steve huffed out a fast breath that almost sounded like a scoff. “Well they’re fucking..., they’re fucking gonna.”</i>
</p><p>COMPLETE</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Как раньше](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8324104) by [Saysly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saysly/pseuds/Saysly)



“Fuck, what? Nah. I dunno anything about that. Do you really think I did?” Rumlow shrugged and grinned. He grinned like he always did, like a shark or a wolf or something. _Grinned like a bastard_. That grin got sparkier as Rumlow went on, failing to answer Steve’s question. “Probably above my level. Sounds kinda like some serious shit. I mean, I dunno if you were thinking Hydra was some kinda open access information kinda set up, or what, but I am not the font of all fucking knowledge on every aspect of… Look, Cap, nice of you to think I’m such a big fish, but I’m just a fucking henchman. I’m just a man who knows how to follow orders. And give ‘em, when I need to.” Rumlow’s teeth flashed under the parking garage’s strip lighting.

Steve shuffled his feet and looked around. He’d dug his hands deep into his pockets, thought maybe it looked casual - like this was about nothing more than the thing it was about. But the parking garage was echo-empty, except for Rumlow’s black Kuga and Steve’s bike and it felt, to Steve, that Rumlow could hear every hitch in his breathing, every clatter of his heart, each, startled, nervous swallow. He pulled back his shoulders. He knew he did that for dominance; did it to look big. But it wasn’t his best or cleverest move in front of Rumlow, who would see it as an act of contrition, a sign he was feeling intimidated. But he did it, all the same. He was feeling intimidated. Rumlow had intimidated him right from the start. “What do you want then? If you don’t have any intel to trade, why am I here?”

Rumlow smiled again, but this was a different smile, a quiet smile, “I just wanted to see you. Wanna talk. I don’t want things to change. Between us.” Steve saw Rumlow’s throat move. “I still want you. I still feel the same.”

It took a moment for Steve to respond at all to that, and then what he had was a jumble of shocked words, “You fucking… What? You fucking serious? I…” He trailed off, swallowed hard. Like, loss just overwhelmed him. This particular loss - a minor one, all things considered - hurt so acutely, suddenly, he couldn’t think straight. He could feel it in his chest, his throat and burning in the back of his nose. He sucked in a hard breath.

Rumlow dipped his head, touched his chin to his chest and looked up at Steve. It was odd, sort of innocent. And that was just weird. “Yeh, I know” he said. “But I’m serious; don’t want things to change.”

Steve huffed out a fast breath that almost sounded like a scoff. “Well they’re fucking, they’re fucking gonna.”

“Okay. That’s a real shame, because, you know, I have these, uh, photographs." Rumlow’s tongue slipped from his mouth, touched the corner of his top lip - quick, but very clear in it’s intention. "Gotta lot of them. They’re not… not so pretty. An’ I got them off the SHIELD system before you pulled your big reveal. So, considering I took that trouble, it’d be a real shame if they got out.”

“Oh. What?” Steve shook his head, just pissed at that, almost disappointed. Like, for all that emotion, that was what this was? _Blackmail_. As tedious as that. His lip curled. “I don’t give a fucking shit about your fucking jerk-off photographs of me chained to your fucking bed, Rumlow. None of that matters now.” And he didn’t know, quite, if it didn’t matter. It probably did matter a bit. It would, actually, matter to a lot of people. To all the people who didn’t know what had gone on. Which was everyone, really.

Rumlow smiled like a wolf/shark/bastard again. “Ah, see, now, don’t be jealous, sugar.” He reached out a patted Steve’s hip. Steve didn’t stop him, or even move away, “but these photographs, they aren’t of you.”

**

He was there when Steve turned around, louche in Steve's office doorway. Steve knew his name, _Rumlow_ , knew it from one brief handshake introduction from Fury. 

Steve was unpacking a box of his possessions. He didn’t have much. Rumlow said, 'Is that you?' pointing at a framed picture Steve was setting on the desk. It was of Steve and Bucky, taken during the war - Africa somewhere - black and white and the focus was off. He was smiling in his uniform - not his _outfit_ \- his uniform. His old uniform. Khaki and gold, although you couldn’t see that in the picture. No jacket, sleeves rolled up. Broad chest, arms crossed over it. Big guns. Beaming, teeth shining and sweat glistening on his forehead. A simple super-soldier fighting a war with his best buddy, and he looked a hundred times happier and more relaxed than he felt right now, with Rumlow strolling casually through the doorway as if moving to get a better view of the picture. And not for any other reason. Not to get nearer to Steve, although the room was small so, of course, that happened too.

Steve was just in front of his desk, leaning back against it, sort of causal. Rumlow ended up right in front of Steve, weirdly close, facing him and caging him tight against the wooden edge. Weird because men - people, really, but mainly men - kept their distance from big guys like Steve. Stayed out of arm’s reach - like a subtle acknowledgement of what they could do, what that much muscle could do. But Rumlow was standing so close to him their thighs were almost touching. Rumlow looked down, right at Steve’s dick, and it was subtle in one moment and completely obvious in another. 

Steve wet his lips, like an idiot, like that wasn’t fucking blatant, fucking lewd. Then nodded and said, “Yeah.” The word was breath. He was answering the question. The picture was obviously of him.

'I like you in that uniform.' Rumlow said.

There was a stretch of time then, that was probably seconds but was also, actually forever, where Steve was certain Rumlow was going to kiss him. Right there, in his fucking office. But he didn’t, he just looked like he was going to for as long as that could be possible without Steve whimpering out loud - and then he grinned a dazzling grin, iced it with a flicker of a wink and twirled away.

“See you soon, Cap.”

It took a minute for Steve to let go of the desk behind him.

*

Steve looked at the photographs in silence, scrolling through them on Rumlow’s phone. Steve could go a long time without sleep, but he still felt tiredness. He felt tired now. The call hadn’t come until after 2am. He should’ve junked that phone, still doesn’t know why he didn’t. 

He got to the end of the photographs. “You should delete these. If not for him, for the other guy. He’s dead - did you know? He died. At least give him his privacy.”

Rumlow stared at Steve, heavy brows shading his narrow eyes. Steve could see his tongue moving around inside his mouth, pushing up over his top teeth. _Christ, that tongue_. “You know I ain’t gonna do that, Cap.” 

“What are you gonna do?”

“Heh. You.”

Steve grimaced. “Jesus, Rumlow, that was fucking beneath you.”

“Yeah. Maybe a bit.” Rumlow was smiling and smiling. “Oh, or do you mean the blackmailing you into sex?”

Steve lifted his chin. “Oh no, that’s not beneath you at all.”

*

 

What Rumlow did to Steve, in the first three weeks after they met, was seduce him. There was no other way to describe it. It was both a charming and an overtly-sleazy seduction and Steve didn’t stand a chance. Months later, in bed, he’d say as much and laugh about it. “That time on the Helicarrier. Sweet Jesus.”

‘That time on the Helicarrier’ was just over a week after the brief conversation in Steve’s office. They were on their way back after a mission that had been a total bust. Rogue intel - they got out just in time. Nothing too bad; cuts, scrapes. It was fine really - really fine, but when Steve debriefed, he had a slight tremor to his hands that he was hoping no one had noticed. 

A moment after the debriefing was over, Steve found himself alone in the room with only Rumlow, who’d paused in the doorway - another doorway - just looking. Steve looked back. 

Neither of them said anything. And then Rumlow crossed the room, quick, it was a small room, it took him three strides. He stopped when he was standing right in front of Steve, reached out, took Steve’s hand and placed it on Rumlow’s own dick, hard through his clothes. He leant close, a mouth at Steve’s ear, said, “I fucking want you.” And that was it. He turned away and he left. Left Steve with a pounding erection, that he couldn’t help feeling had been as obvious to Rumlow as Rumlow’s own.  
*

 

“What do you want me to do?”

“You know what I like, right? You still know.”

Steve shook his head slowly, mouth open a fraction - disbelief, or something. “It can’t be that. It can’t be like that.”

“But it can.” Rumlow took a small step forward, reached out and touched Steve’s chin, took it in a pinch of thumb and forefinger, and it felt so familiar. It was like - just feeling that odd, particular sensation - like none of the last 3 months even happened. 

Rumlow moved his face a little closer and bit his bottom lip, letting the flesh cascade back out past his teeth, slow, “Reckon this might be even better the second time around, y’know, Cap. Before, you were a bit easy for my tastes. You couldn’t wait to give it all up to me, could ya? Couldn’t wait to have me bend you over your fucking mahogany desk. Desperation is hot in its way, sure, but this,” He took his hand away from Steve’s chin and gave his cheek a little, soft slap. “On your knees for me now, sugar. Show daddy you mean to be a good boy.”


	2. Chapter 2

Steve did not get on his knees. Rumlow’s open palm still lay on his face. Steve’s jaw moved soundlessly for a second and then he said, “Rumlow, I -. We need to talk about this.”

“Oh, no, no, no.” Rumlow said, thumb stroking Steve’s cheekbone. “No more talking. You talk far too much. Always did, makes my head ache. Oh, or are you trying to make me…?” He cocked his head. That hackneyed old move. Steve knew he wasn’t weighing anything up. _Bastard smile_. “Sugar, y’know I’ll punish you if that’s what you need. You don’t have to get bratty. I know you always deserve it. You need daddy’s belt, huh? ‘Cause you know I can do that for you. You need it?”

Steve thighs were shaking. It was horrifying how much his libido had responded to that. _Daddy._ Fuck’s sake, was he still that cheap? _Daddy’s belt._ “Don’t say that. Don’t talk to me like that.”

“Aw, Cap.” Rumlow pressed out his bottom lip as he rubbed Steve’s jaw. The stubble there prickled Steve’s skin as Rumlow ran his fingers over it. “But surely, after everything that’s happened, me talking trash to you isn’t gonna still turn you on, is it? You can’t be still - “ The pad of Rumlow’s thumb slid over Steve’s bottom lip, “ - still hot for daddy? Are you?

“I said, don’t say that,” Steve’s voice was quivering, lips moving against Rumlow’s touch.

Rumlow just smiled like, there was no way, no way he was dropping this. “Don’t say… what? Don’t say, how ‘bout you suck daddy’s dick? Huh? Don’t say that?” Steve pressed his lips together to hold in a tiny whimper. Rumlow caught it, nodded a sly acknowledgement, mouth slightly open. “Or, how ‘bout, keep still boy, and let daddy fuck your face?” he was whispering now, that made it worse. “Swallow all daddy’s spill? Yeah?” Rumlow ran his hand over Steve’s face again, cupped his jaw. “Don’t think you’re think you’re gonna get through this without begging for daddy’s cock? Cuz you’re gonna beg for it ’til you can’t talk anymore, sweetheart.” He shook his head. “I ain’t givin' that up, sorry. I’m a sentimental man. Now, get on your knees, c’mon, kiss daddy’s dick.”

Steve was panting. Couldn’t hide it. “Please…,” he stammered out, “…don’t…,” then checked himself. He took Rumlow’s hand gently off his face and swallowed. “Not like this. Not here. I’ll do it. I’ll let you do what you want, but not here.”

“What? Why not?”

Steve made a show of looking around. “Because it’s a fucking parking garage!”

“Woah. What are you, suddenly, the King of England? You used to beg me to take you back alleys on the way home from the bar! Jesus. Such a fucking whore for it, you were. _Please daddy, please_ , remember that? Your fucking catchphrase. Grabbing my dick through my pants every chance you got, pulling me into men’s rooms so I could put you on your knees and fuck your desperate fucking face. Do you remember? Do you remember what you were fucking _like_? And now you won’t do it in parking garage. What? Cuz suddenly this dick-hungry cum-whore is such a fucking _lady_?” 

Steve said nothing, responded with a lift of his chin. 

“Jesus, fine. Get in the car.”

*

When Steve took a shower he thought about how Rumlow’s dick had felt under his hand on the helicarrier. Big. Vicious-thick. He’d been shocked to have his hand pressed against it, but he had moved his thumb slightly. Made one tiny act to caress it. Steve wanted to see what that dick looked like. Wondered what it would taste like. What Rumlow's come would taste like. Or just the wet part of his mouth.

When they passed in the Triskelion corridor the next day, Rumlow was a little too close and let the back of his hand graze across the top of Steve’s thigh. It was enough to make’s Steve’s legs turn to liquid.

Later, Steve was sitting in the cafeteria. He liked to eat when it was quiet, so he avoided the rush times if he could. He was eating a chicken and spinach omelette, when Rumlow’s tray of noodles smacked down on the table, and Rumlow climbed over the bench-seat to sit himself next to Steve, pressing their thighs together. Steve felt his heart rate switch up.

Rumlow ate a few forkfuls of his food, without looking at Steve or speaking, then reached over and pushed Steve’s own plate away from him. “You’re done with that.”

Steve had stopped eating when Rumlow had sat down, so it wasn’t an odd assumption, that he had finished. “Yeah,” he said, his voice weak. “Yeah.”

Rumlow turned to look at Steve and shoved more noodles into his mouth. “When you gonna jerk me off, Cap?” he said. “I know you can’t stop thinking about it.”

*

They got a room in a cheap hotel, three blocks away. Rumlow dealt with the desk clerk, while Steve sat in the Kuga with his baseball cap low over his eyes.

Once they were in the room, Steve turned around and said, “Here’s how it’s gonna be. We do this. One time, fuck me or I’ll blow you, whatever you want, and then you delete the pictures and then it’s over.”

But Rumlow was already reaching out to hold him, hands on his waist, fingers spread wide like he was trying to circle it, like Steve was some pretty slip of a girl and he was testing how slender he truly was. “That’s just silly, sugar. Listen. First of all, let’s not have you giving me orders. What is this, we still at work?” He slipped both his hands down and cupped Steve’s ass then jerked him forward, closer. “Huh?”

“Work?” Their chests were almost touching and Steve was panting with it. There was something about being in the room, this room, this room they’d got for fucking. Rumlow smelled like sweat. “We don’t work for SHIELD, anymore, Rumlow. you never did.”

“Hmm, is that how it was? Whatever, and you really need to stop calling me that. You know what you call me.” 

Rumlow was teasing two fingers up and down the seam of Steve’s sweat pants as he leant in and licked Steve’s neck. “You know who I am.” Rumlow said into the skin there, lips dragging against Steve’s throat. “And, all I’m saying is you, telling me what to do, is dumb, because, you know, sugar, I got those photos of your buddy and his poor deceased _very_ close buddy, who I believe had a wife and a kid so, yeah, let’s not fuck that up, huh?” Rumlow kissed Steve’s neck as he spoke, kissed Steve’s ear as he spoke. “And, also, well, we both know how things are, between us. You don’t run this dog and pony show. I do. And we both like it that way. And we both know what we like. Let’s not pretend we don’t know what we know about each other. I want you back, Cap. And I want to ruin you, just the way you like it.” Rumlow’s hands had moved to Steve’s hair, twisting tight handfuls of it as he kissed Steve’s face. Rumlow’s desire was making Steve’s breath hitch over and over. “I want to hurt you, Cap,” Rumlow whispered. “Hurt you and have you beg for more, just cuz I like that. I want to see you kneel, to see you crawl for my dick with your tongue out. I want you licking my boots. I want you calling me daddy and kissing the ground I fucking walk on. I want. You back.” And then, finally, Rumlow’s lips were on Steve’s, kissing him.

Steve responded, to that, to all of it, hopeless. He moaned into the kiss, felt Rumlow’s rough skin scrape over his, pushed both his hands up, under Rumlow’s shirt and felt the pattern of familiar scars there. 

Rumlow’s hand was between Steve’s legs. “Ah, yeah, he said gripping Steve’s hard dick. “That’s what I’m fucking talking about. You still want it.”

*

“What?” said Steve. “What? here?” 

“In the men’s room. Follow me.”

As soon as the door swung shut behind them, Rumlow was kissing Steve. It was a hard vicious kiss. It felt like Rumlow was trying to bite his way into Steve’s face and Steve was half shocked by the intensity of it, and more shocked by how hard it made him to be kissed like that. Rumlow was driving Steve backwards at he same time and, in a moment, he was pressed against the men’s room wall and Rumlow was still kissing him as he shoved Steve’s hand down the front of his pants. 

The second Steve’s fingertips touched the leaking head of Rumlow’s hard dick, Steve rolled his head back against the wall and moaned. “Yeah,” Rumlow snarled into Steve’s mouth. “You like that, do you? Huh? You like my dick. Jerk me off you fucking faggot.”

Steve slipped his hand down, making a well around Rumlow’s cock, using Rumlow’s own arousal as slick. Rumlow made a harsh breathy noise that could have been a word. Could have been, _yeah_.

Steve fumbled, then found the angle, the pressure, the speed. He’d done this before. Used to do it a lot. He knew how to make this good. Once he’d found the rhythm Rumlow liked he pulled back to a looser tease. Rumlow’s hips bucked and he made another deep, guttural sound. An _uh_ of frustration and Steve felt that sound right in his dick. He caressed the wet tip of Rumlow’s dick with his thumb, just slow, and Rumlow snarled, his hand snapping around Steve’s wrist. Rumlow began trying to jerk Steve’s fist harder, still making low growls. “Come on, man,” he said, “No more party tricks. Get me off. I want to see you lick my filth off your fingers.”

Steve swallowed hard at that, felt his knees buckle a little. They weren’t even in a stall. Just up against the wall opposite the wash basins. _Anyone could just… At any moment…_ Steve could see himself in the mirrors. He looked obscene, like he was coming apart - looked like he was the one being used.

“Yeah, you like that, yeah? You like my dick, yeah?” Rumlow muttered. And, in response, Steve squeezed tighter, moved faster, which had the effect of drying Rumlow’s _yeahs_ to stuttering gasps. 

“Ah, yeah. Fuck. Captain America,” Rumlow grunted out as he came, eye’s squeezing shut. 

And then, when Rumlow opened his eyes, chest still jolting with heavy, hard breaths, Steve held them, held that heavy-lidded gaze, lifted his own sticky hand and licked every trace of Rumlow’s spill from his fingers. “You have to buy me dinner, next time.” Steve said. 

Rumlow dipped his head to fasten his pants. He was grinning. Grinning like a shark or a wolf or something. And it was sexy. It was so fucking sexy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The moment when Rumlow says 'Captain America' as he comes, is quite heavily influenced by him saying something a little similar in [ Linga Morta's Easing In ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3884128). The trouble is, once I'd read that, in that fic (which I might have read more than once, that happens) I just couldn't imagine him NOT saying that. 
> 
> So I hadta do it. But, probably I would never have thought about it without that fic.


	3. Chapter 3

After he’d jerked Rumlow off in the men’s room, it was three days before anything else happened. And when something did, it wasn’t what Steve expected. There was a meeting, just another meeting. Some long info dump about a potential terrorist threat and some mortar bombs and… _oh, something_ … it didn’t seem very likely any of this would actually happen, probably dormant anyway, but it needed to be looked at, yeah, Steve got it. But Fury was talking and Rumlow had sat down right opposite Steve. And Steve had noticed this, had even felt his stomach flip when Rumlow nodded at him as he slid into the seat. They were at a long table, long and narrow, narrow enough that when Fury hit the lights to show some satellite images on the screen, Rumlow could slip down, lift one of his legs and place his heel right on the seat of Steve’s chair, nasty black boot right there, right between Steve’s legs, forcing him to spread his thighs a little wider to make space.

Steve gasped at this, gasped loud enough that everyone looked at him - and he had to pretend it was a reaction to Fury’s grainy photos of a weapons silo somewhere in the Midwest. 

The boot hitched forward. Steve felt saliva pool on is tongue as he looked at Rumlow, who smiled that lazy, half-dazed smile, eyes crinkling - everything about his face secretly promising danger and viciousness. Steve looked down at the toe of the dusty boot, and his mouth was fucking watering. 

When he looked up, looked at Rumlow, Rumlow mouthed the words, “Fuck yourself on it.” And Steve gulped, horrified, and looked away. Looked up and the screen again. He wanted to, really wanted to, wanted to slip forward in his seat until his erection was jammed against the sole of Rumlow’s boot and then just grind and grind until he came, hiding his moans and squirming, coming with his jaw clenched shut. But he didn’t, of course he didn’t. _Fucks sake - he was Captain America._

When the meeting was done, Rumlow pulled his boot away and left without looking back at him and Steve had to wait in his seat for the room to empty before he could stand up. 

*

“Fine,” Steve said, his breath coming in pants now as Rumlow kissed his throat, two big rough hands tight on his biceps. He could pull away, of course he could. And he also couldn’t, just couldn’t. He could feel Rumlow’s chest, hot and hard against his, see old familiar cords of muscle in the forearms that pressed into his chest, where the sleeves of Rumlow’s jacket had ridden up. “What do you want?”

“How about,” said Rumlow, licking hot, wet patterns into Steve’s collar bone, mouth slack, bottom lip loose and slicking over Steve’s skin - Rumlow was plain worshipping Steve’s body - the bits he could get at - there was no other way to described the way his tongue was moving, the sounds he made - “how about I sit on the bed and watch you strip yourself, slow. Show me everything. You like it don’t you…” Rumlow’s teeth grazed the junction of Steve’s neck and shoulder, giving him gooseflesh, “…hmm, you do, you like it when you’re naked in front of daddy, don’t you? You like pleasing daddy with your hot, slutty body, huh?”

Steve swallowed another moan. “Do we have to…?” Rumlow was pushing his tongue under the neckline of Steve’s t shirt. “Jesus. Do we have to play games? Can’t you just fucking fuck me, Rumlow?”

Rumlow snapped his head up. One hand left Steve’s arm and grabbed his jaw tight. “Oh no. Oh no, no, no. C’mon.” And Rumlow slapped Steve’s face, hard. Steve gasped at that, shook. And when he breathed out, he said something that sounded like _fuck yes._ Rumlow grinned as he grabbed Steve’s jaw again. “Now, sweetheart, you ever get daddy to fuck you talking like that, huh?”

Steve stared into Rumlow’s hot, flashing eyes, knew he was drowning in arousal, knew it was written all over him too. All over. He fought it. Crushed it down and said, “Fine. Fine. Whatever you want.”

Rumlow took his hands off Steve and turned away. He crossed the room to sit on the end of the bed and slid his jacket off, as he went - let it fall to the floor. Underneath he wore a white vest. Steve could see every muscle in Rumlow’s strong, hard arms, the shape of his shoulders. Steve could remember those arms holding him down, holding Rumlow up. Holding Rumlow over him as he fucked into him. Those muscles tensing and taking Rumlow’s weight as Steve got fucked. Steve liked those arms. Rumlow wetted his lips as he looked at Steve. “Strip. Slow,” he said. “And make me want you.”

“You already…” Steve gulped, “…already want me.”

Rumlow looked amused. “Then make me want to destroy you.”

 

*

Steve’s phone rang as he was walking to the car lot. He picked up and said, “Rogers,” without looking at the caller ID. Not many people had the number.

“Cap! Saw you drooling. You wanted to kiss it, yeah? You’re worse than I thought.”

“Rumlow, I…” Steve looked around, almost as if he thought Rumlow might spring at him from somewhere in the lot.

“Did you want to kiss it, lick it clean, or rub yourself off against it?”

“You shouldn’t have this number. This is a private number,” Steve’s voice trembled. He was at his car, slipped inside.

“An’ this is a private call. You jerked off about it yet? I know you’re thinking about me when you touch your dick.”

And that was true. Every time he came, it was Rumlow’s face he saw behind his eyes, Rumlow’s predator smile, Rumlow’s scarcely-hidden promise of violence, of violent sex, of sexual humiliation and degradation of all the secret dark vicious things Steve knew Rumlow would sneer as he made him beg for - the things Steve craved, things Rumlow somehow knew he craved. Steve swallowed hard, felt like he was swallowing his desire. “Rumlow, we can’t just…” Because really, truly Steve had been expecting a night in a bar or a meal, followed by a race back to his place to tumble into bed and do it right, do it properly. But Rumlow hadn’t offered him anything more, except a boot between his legs when he really didn’t need it.

“See, about that, Cap,” Rumlow’s voice sounded darker suddenly, enough to make Steve’s dick stir a little. “About you jerking yourself off. You’re really gonna regret missing out on that chance I gave you rub one out. You might not get another for a while. Cuz, from now on, I want you to keep that just for me.”

“W-what?”

“No jacking off. Without permission. You got me?”

Steve could see himself in the mirror. He was flushed red across his cheekbones. His dick was heavy in his underwear. “What? Rumlow, I’m not going to ask you for permission to jack off.”

“Yes y’are, sugar. Yes you are.” 

Steve went to reply, then realised Rumlow had hung up, and so, instead, just tipped his head back and closed his eyes. He was lightheaded - is dick had got so hard at that order, the casual dismal, the tone, the assumption he would obey, the fact he was going to obey…

He wanted to jerk off right there, and moaned aloud at the idea that, now, he couldn’t.

*

Steve took off his hoodie, He didn’t do it in any particular way - he just slipped the zip down and shrugged it off, Rumlow looked at him and rolled his eyes, like this was on the very edge of his tolerance. 

“There isn’t a sexy way to take off a sweatshirt,” Steve said.

Rumlow shrugged. “Do better with the shirt,” he said and licked his top teeth.

Steve crossed his forearms, grabbed the hem of his t shirt and began to draw it up his body slowly. He looked Rumlow in the eye then, as he showed him his hard belly, the little line of hair there. He let his tongue flick over his lips and then, afterwards, left is mouth a little open, letting his breath come in shallow pants.

“Aw yeah.” Rumlow spread his legs wider and palmed his dick through the fabric at his crotch. “Fuck yeah. That’s right, you want it. Tell me how much you want to get fucked.”

“I want to get fucked,” said Steve. It wasn’t a lie. His dick was pulsing, leaking desire into his underwear. “I want to get fucked, so much.” He stared at Rumlow for a second. “Will you fuck me? Please. Will you?”

Rumlow’s face swept into a glorious, filthy smile. “I might. If you ask me real nicely. Get that fucking shirt off now. Show me your fucking tits.” Steve’s face flushed, his legs shook. He tugged the shirt awkwardly over his head and dropped it, put his hands behind his back, showed Rumlow his body - head down, looking up through the shade of his eyelashes. Rumlow was still smiling. “Who’da thought you could get even prettier, sweetheart,” he said, soft, breathy almost. “Now, the rest. Get your fucking clothes off. I want you naked - you’ll know your place when you’re naked, baby. You always did.”

Steve had nothing else to say. He shoved his sweatpants off, kicking his way out of his socks and sneakers as he went. When he straightened up he was bare and he was hard and he knew then - knew for sure - that Rumlow’s photographs were no longer anything to do with what he was doing. And was there really any point in trying to hide it? He wanted it. Rumlow let his eyes slide over Steve’s body lazily, still rubbing his own dick, his tongue playing around obscenely in his slack-jawed mouth. “Oh yeah,” he said. “Don’t you worry your pretty head, baby, Daddy’s gonna fuck that shit up so nice.” He flashed his eyebrows like a disgusting promise. “You know what I’m gonna do to you, you wanna know, huh?” Steve just shook his head a little, helpless as Rumlow kept talking. “I’m gonna put you on this bed and I'm gonna drag my wet tongue over that filthy, needy hole of yours until you’re begging for my cock. You gonna scream for daddy, tonight, sugar?” Rumlow took a breath and stared at Steve’s dick. “Heh. Silly question, course y’are.”

And Steve couldn’t help it, Steve dropped Rumlow’s gaze, looked down at his own dripping cock, and Steve, Steve whispered, "Yes, daddy."


	4. Chapter 4

Steve did as he had been told, without really knowing why, without really letting himself think about why. All the places, the soothing points in his life where he would normally jerk himself off, he found himself resisting. Almost liked it - did like it - liked to follow orders. It was a sort of comfort. 

And it was other things too.

When he didn’t touch his dick in the shower, he thought about Rumlow instead, about how pleased Rumlow would be with him. When he struggled to sleep without an orgasm, he only let himself run his flat palm a few times over the head of his aching cock. He imagined it was Rumlow’s hand, that Rumlow was touching him, teasing him, but denying him release; and that made him whimper, roll onto his stomach and press his face hard into his pillow as he ground into the mattress with frustration.

After three days he passed Rumlow in the corridor and he didn’t walk past him with a nod and a tingle of pleasure like he might have done a few days ago, he turned right around and followed him. 

Rumlow probably knew Steve was there, _certainly_ knew he was there. And Rumlow led Steve right into a tiny storeroom, full of cleaning supplies, turned as Steve closed the door and moved to press him back against it. 

Steve’s head rolled back as Rumlow pushed one hard thigh between his shaking legs - Steve’s lips popped softly apart. He was hard, but he’d been hard as soon as he started following Rumlow down the corridor. 

Rumlow took hold of each of Steve’s wrists, held them against the door, and, for a second, Steve closed his eyes; when he let them flutter open he saw Rumlow’s vicious grin. “Hey, sugar. How you doing?” he said with a long, slow drag of that thigh pressed at the base of Steve’s cock.

Steve voice was high pitched, shamefully needy. “Rumlow, I need to jerk off. Can I?”

Rumlow cupped Steve’s jaw and pressed closer. Steve’s back was against the door, both their chests were pressed together. Rumlow’s thigh had pushed higher between Steve’s legs, and Steve could feel Rumlow’s own erection. “Do ya?” he said, stretching his eyes wider. Steve’s lips twitched. He wanted Rumlow to kiss him like he had in the men’s room. “Do ya, sugar?”

Steve just nodded and moved to grind onto Rumlow’s thigh again, but his body was held too close against the closet door and Rumlow was squeezing his jaw tighter and he stopped moving and, instead, without wanting to, made a soft, helpless whining noise, like a sad puppy dog.

“Oh,” said Rumlow, shaking his head, features now mock-sadness. “Oh really?”

Steve was panting. This was… It was hopeless. “Please,” he said, words like desperate breath. “Rumlow, I need to come. Please let me come.”

Rumlow pulled his head back a little, brought his free hand up and rubbed his own rough chin lightly. “Yeah, alright. Not here though, lover. Not actually in a fucking closet. Too fucking much, surely, ice queen?”

Steve shivered. What was this now? Was this teasing? Was this _sexy_? Rumlow was laughing at him - ruined after three days of not being able to get off. But he could surely, he knew it, just push Rumlow away… just push Rumlow though the fucking wall and go jerk off in the men’s room. But he wasn’t gonna. He knew he wasn’t. Just said, “Where then?”

“Tonight. And I wanna see you in that nice dress uniform you got, so wear it. Come to my place. I’ll text you my address.” Rumlow leant forward and kissed Steve on the temple. “You’re gonna beg for it, though, sugar. You’re gonna beg.”

Steve’s legs were weak like water. And when Rumlow reached past him and grabbed the door handle, Steve stumbled aside, and let him barge past.

 

*

 

“You remember these, sugar?”

Steve was on his stomach, spread naked on the hotel bed. Rumlow was straddling him, dangling something familiar in front of his face. 

“Handcuffs,” said Steve flatly.

“Daddy’s handcuffs.” Steve made a soft little grunting noise at that, but resisted the urge to look over his shoulder at the grin he could easily imagine. “Yeah, you remember. So you remember the rules, right?” Rumlow put a hand on Steve’s shoulder and leant forward. Steve could feel Rumlow’s hard dick against the small of his back. “You break ‘em,” Rumlow snapped one of the bracelet’s around Steve’s right wrist, then threaded the chain around the bed frame. “Daddy’s not happy.” And he snapped the second bracelet in place. Steve lost his breath to that, just has he always had and he felt Rumlow’s hips jolt. “Oh yeah,” Rumlow’s mouth was at his ear, hot breath and the hint of a flickering tongue. “You still like that don’t ya, big guy? Like control. You still think about me when you jerk your prick, sugar? Still do like daddy told you?” One of Rumlow’s hands had moved down Steve’s body, fingers slick with something, coaxing at Steve’s hole, while Rumlow’s tongue slipped right into his ear.

“No I fucking don’t,” Steve spat out, panting, almost vibrating with it - knowing his indignation would be far more convincing if he wasn’t pushing up into each touch of Rumlow’s slick fingers.

“Nah, not buying that, Cap. I remember how you were. Come on, you still think about me. You want my fingers in you?” Rumlow bit the tip of Steve’s ear.

Steve pulled away and pressed his face into the pillows. “Don’t,” he murmured. “Don’t, don’t.” 

“Come on, sugar. I ain’t even finger fucking you until you tell me the truth. So if you want to hold out a bit and play the brave hero, sure, you can do that,but we both know I’m gonna get what i want sooner or later. You can’t resist me.” 

Rumlow’s middle finger was making lazy circles around Steve’s rim, making Steve so wet, it was shameful. But his hips were jerking and he was desperately wanted those fingers, anything, inside him. “Sometimes,” Steve said, half into the pillows. “Sometimes, when I’m tired and I want it to be quick. I think of you. Still. I still think about you.”

“Uh-uh. You think of what?” Rumlow’s middle finger slipped into Steve then, just the first joint, but enough to make him gasp, to make his nipples harden, to make him jerk at the cuffs a little. “C’mon, sweetheart, you know what I want.”

Steve took a breath, relaxed into the single finger a moment before he said it. “Daddy,” he said on a long exhale. “I think of you, daddy. Fuck. Oh fuck. Please don’t make me keep saying it.”

“An’ what’s daddy doing to you, sugar?” Rumlow said. Giving Steve a little more, a little deeper, a second finger.

“Fucking me.” 

“Liar.” Rumlow twisted, found Steve’s prostate and dragged the pad of his finger over it.

“Oh god!” Steve spluttered out, jerking in the restraints, dick suddenly straining. “He’s spanking me,” he choked, a twisted sob. “I think about you spanking me. Fuck. God. Fuck.” His voice was coming and going as Rumlow caressed him over and over. “Calling me a bad boy and punishing me. That makes me come. Jesus, it makes me come.”

Rumlow pushed a third finger inside Steve and tears prickled at his eyes. “Don’t fucking stop now, sugar,” he whispered. “Say it all. And say my fucking name.”

There was a long pause. A long, long pause taken up with the obscene slick, wet noise of Rumlow’s fingers fucking Steve..., Steve's gasps of pleasure..., and then… “When I want to come. When I touch myself, I think about you, daddy. Daddy, oh god, I think about you spanking me, first, calling me a bad boy. Telling me I deserve it, that I need it. That I need daddy’s control. Making me say it back to you. What I am, how filthy I am for it. And then, oh, oh, I think about how hard and rough your hands were daddy. How you’d rub them over my sore red ass between strokes. Making me hurt more. And how hard you could hit. And how you could spank me until I cried, saying, please daddy, please stop. I’ll be a good boy. I’ll be obedient. Please stop. Oh, god, Rumlow, fuck me. Please. Jesus.”

“Heh. And do ya? Do ya need daddy’s control, Cap? Do you need my dick in you, showing you your place, what y’are? Have you missed me, honey? Huh?” Rumlow pulled his fingers free, Steve felt him repositioning on the bed. And then that filthy fucking mouth was right back by his ear again. “Have you missed me, baby? You missed your daddy? Huh? Huh? Huh, baby boy?” Rumlow had lined the head of his dick up with Steve’s asshole as he spoke. Steve could feel it right there, thick, so hard, so ready. Rumlow’s hands spreading him for it.

“Yes,” he panted, barely a voice at all. “Yes, daddy, yes.”

“Well guess what, sugar?” Rumlow said, pushing into Steve slow, with one long glorious thrust, the stretch of it making Steve throw his head right back and keen as Rumlow snarled, soft, “Daddy’s home.”


	5. Chapter 5

As he got it out of the bag, Steve wondered if his dress uniform would still fit. He hadn’t worn it since he opened that kids’ hospital wing 8 months ago. But it was fine, just a little tight across the shoulders where he’d gotten bulkier.

It itched a bit at the collar around the back of his neck. He couldn’t remember it itching before. He got hard about wearing it for this just parking up outside.

After Rumlow shut the door, he turned back around, looked Steve up and down and exhaled for a long time; “fuck, yeah,” dirty on his breath. Steve liked it - liked being looked at that way. Rumlow stayed leant up against the frosted glass panel of the door, and held Steve’s gaze as he slipped his own dick out of his pants. Idly, with his lips parted and his eyes heavy, he started jacking himself, just a little, as if he couldn’t help himself, as if Steve, in his dress uniform, was some impossible to resist, unexpectedly encountered, porno…

Steve didn’t know what to do. His own dick iron in his pants but he knew he wasn’t allowed to touch it. It was as if Rumlow, lazily jacking himself, was showing Steve what he didn’t get to do. Then Rumlow smiled like he’d read this thought. His teeth looked sharper than an average person’s. He said, “Get on your knees and suck my dick, Captain America.”

Steve squared his shoulders. “Don’t call me that, Brock.”

“Sorry.” Rumlow’s hands were still working over his cock, not exactly jerking off, just teasing it, getting it good and hard and ready. “Get on your knees and suck my dick, Steve.” He nodded to his crotch. “I know you’ve been thinking about it, sweetheart. Not allowed your own dick so you’ve been thinking about mine, haven’t ya? How’s it’s gonna taste, how hard I’m gonna shove it in there. Yeah? How much I’m gonna choke you with it?”

Steve pressed his lips together over a whimper. Because, Jesus, that was true. He’d thought of little else all afternoon. That thick, salty sensation in his mouth. It had been a while since… It had been a goddamn long while. He wanted Rumlow’s dick in his mouth like he never wanted anything. More than he wanted to come right now. Hard. Hard down his throat until he choked and drooled.

Rumlow licked his palm with a flash of long, pink tongue, and, when it was wet, made a circles with it, flat, on the head of his dick. “You gonna stand there staring all day, sugar? C’mon?” And that was that. With a gasp Steve dropped right to his knees in front of Rumlow and reached out for his dick. Rumlow swatted his hands away. “I reckon you can you do it without using your hands, Cap.” He winked.

Steve looked up. Rumlow looked incredible from this angle, above him as he knelt on the floor; hard upper body and angel-wing cheekbones. Steve’s dick was leaking into his dress pants. “I don’t know,” he said, breathy. “I’ve never really.” He’d sucked a dick. It wasn’t that. But never like this and, also, never with someone who was so pushy and precise. Steve’s own dick ached. Jesus he wanted to come. 

Rumlow leant easy against the door. “Yeah, bet you can, Cap. The things I’ve seen you do.”

So Steve put is hands behind his back, which seem liked a reasonable place to put them, but he noticed Rumlow make a soft noise of satisfied arousal when he did it. Then he pressed his head forward, and took the head of Rumlow’s dick into his mouth, making a small moan around the sour solidness of it. As he caught the scent, Steve’s own dick jolted painfully, pushing itself tightly against his belly, but he knew better than to try and adjust it. And he slid his lips down the length of Rumlow’s dick. 

As he reached the bottom, Rumlow’s hands went into Steve’s hair, both twisting hard and holding him in place, as Rumlow rocked his dick into Steve’s mouth - building slow, but getting crueller. Steve didn’t move his hands, struggling to take it all - and it was ten, maybe twelve steady thrusts before Rumlow was jamming his dick choke-deep down his throat each time, sharp enough to make the door behind him rattle and squeak. That and Rumlow’s low grunts and Steve’s whimpers, as he struggled at points to breathe, all mixed together into some disgusting rhythmic chorus, some vile tattoo, building and building in intensity. 

Steve gasped. And then Rumlow drove forward with a thrust so hard Steve lurched backwards slightly, held in place only by the hands in his hair. He put his own palms on the scratchy carpet behind him for support, grunting, arching his back and Rumlow moved forward over him, caging Steve’s body. 

With a single, “Yeah,” Rumlow cupped he back of Steve’s head and started to fuck his face so violently the jolting and that lack of air made his vision blur and spot with stars. Steve moaned over and over at this, drooling like a leaky faucet, thrusting and jutting his hips like an animal, wanting so much, bent over backwards and used like a fuck hole. Rumlow pressed one boot between Steve’s spread legs, moving a hand from the back of Steve’s head at the same moment, to stroke and caress his wet lips where they were stretched obscenely wide around Rumlow’s dick.

With a low moan of desire, Steve rocked onto the toe of Rumlow’s boot. Two long slides of his heavy, hard dick against it and the orgasm he’d had in him for days was building fast. “Jesus,” he whispered around Rumlow’s dick. His lips moving against Rumlow’s fingers where they stroked him there, pressing into his mouth alongside Rumlow’s dick. “Jesus. Fuck.”

Rumlow bent over a little, his voice was low and affectionate. “Don’t you dare come yet, sugar. You’re gonna beg me, remember. And I know you wanna beg me for it so keep that filthy fucking cock in check.”

Steve gasped. He stilled his cock against Rumlow’s boot cap, but Rumlow kept it right there, firm and tormenting at his dick. And then Rumlow came with a jerk and a cry, came into Steve’s mouth, pulling back as he did so, splattering onto Steve’s tongue and lips and cheek and everywhere. 

Steve stayed where he was, bent over on the floor, as Rumlow caught his breath. He let the filth stay mostly where it was on his face, only licking at one tiny splatter by the corner of his mouth.

Rumlow zipped his pants and smiled with half his mouth. “You want to come now, sugar?”

Steve nodded once, dumbly. He rolled his shoulders, hot in the prickly uniform. Rumlow’s spill dripping off his chin onto his brass buttons.

“I dunno though,” Rumlow paused, put his hands through his hair. “Reckon that’s sorted me out nicely. Don’t need to see that.”

Steve’s heart dropped. “What? W-what?”

“I’ve changed my mind.” Rumlow cocked his head in that predatory way; wolf smile. “I don’t wanna let you come right now, Cap. Kinda into you desperate and frustrated like this.”

*

“You’re gonna come on my cock, tonight, sugar,” Rumlow said, fucking harder into Steve, pulling his head back by the hair, both hands buried in, yanking it back, using it for control like he was riding a horse. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten about that.”

“Please,” Steve gasped, he was arched back so hard he was looking at the ceiling, eyes swimming at how horribly good this was. He didn’t even know what he was pleading for, just, oh, something. He shook at the cuffs, trying to find anything he could control. His body was so compliant for Rumlow. Moving for him, opening for each touch, each thrust. Steve’s dick, hardening and drooling thick, pressed there tight between his stomach and the nasty quilt. Each thrust Rumlow made into Steve’s tight-held, taut body, dragging Steve’s cock head over his own belly and the bed. He let out a whimper that turned into a keening wail, a chattering, desperate sound. 

One of Rumlow’s hands slid to Steve’s face. “Hey, no need for that, sugar. You think I don’t remember how to make this good for you, baby? Daddy wouldn’t forget stuff like that.” The other hand moved then, the brutal grip on his hair subsided and both Rumlow’s hands were on his face, then his neck, then tight on his neck as Steve lowered his face to the bed. Knowing what was next.

“Uh,” was all Steve managed, before Rumlow started to choke him as he fucked him, and Steve’s hips just turned to liquid and need. It was good. It was so, so sweet, melancholy, almost, achingly nostalgic and beautiful. Like a memory come alive. The vicious way Rumlow fucked him, hurt him, choked him blind. He had missed it. He hadn’t even let himself think about it, but, oh, he had missed it. Sweet as shame. 

After several moments of this, Steve choking and drooling over the pillow, Rumlow moved one of his hands and Steve grabbed a shaky breath as Rumlow was repositioning, dragging Steve up again, back in a another taut arch that plastered their bodies together, Steve’s back to Rumlow’s chest. Rumlow used one big forearm at Steve’s neck to cut his air again and with the other hand reached down and slipped a finger into Steve alongside his dick, saying, “Daddy didn’t forget how you like it, sugar.” Rumlow’s fingers traced a quick,nasty path inside him, the arm tightened, harder, harder, and just as he felt like he was blacking out, Steve came, pulled back hard against Rumlow behind him. Came screaming. Lost.

It took a while, but as the feeling faded, Rumlow didn’t let up. He shoved Steve back down on the bed, squared off, both hands on Steve’s shoulder’s for maximum force and kept fucking him. Steve screamed at the pace, where he was so over-sensitised. It was too much. Too much, and yet there was something horribly delicious about it, as Steve thrashed, helpless in the cuffs, trying to ease the relentless overload of Rumlow’s dick. 

And, even delirious, all Steve found himself wanting was to hear to familiar, soft, nasty sound Rumlow always made when he came.

“Daddy,” Steve managed. “Oh god, daddy, please. Come inside me, please. I want to feel you come.”

And then, over Steve, Rumlow lowered himself, put his lips to Steve’s ear, kept fucking slow, and whispered, “Okay, here’s the deal, Cap. You have a choice now. Option one: I pull out of your sweet ass, get dressed, leave, jerk off at home over all this pretty imagery you given me and then delete the pictures of your pal…” Rumlow paused for breath and Steve, baffled, forced himself to concentrate on what was being said. _The pictures_. “Or,” said Rumlow, “I pull out and come on your face, then go home and delete the pictures. Your choice. Same outcome. Only question is whether you want daddy to jerk it over you before he says goodbye.” And Rumlow dipped his head and kissed the crook of Steve’s shoulder. “So which you want, baby?”

*

Steve was sitting back on his heels, staring hopelessly at Rumlow. “But you can’t. I need to. I need to come. Rumlow, please.”

He watched Rumlow’s tongue sweeping round behind his bottom teeth. He was smiling. “Daddy,” he said.

Steve frowned. “What?”

Rumlow reached down and caught Steve’s chin in a pinch of thumb and forefinger. Lifting it, adjusting his gaze slightly. “Call me daddy, sweetheart. Ask me nice and call me daddy.”

“Daddy?” Steve’s voice shook. He liked the way Rumlow’s hand felt, firm on his face. His cock was aching and his legs were weak as they’d ever felt. Even back then. He swallowed.

“Yeah,” Rumlow said, soft and kind, “yeah. Be a good boy an’ call me daddy. Beg me sweet an’ call me daddy and see what you get.”

Steve swallowed. “Daddy.” It sounded strange in his mouth. It shivered on his lips. He’d never… He’d never called anyone that before. “You like that?”

“Yeah,” Rumlow said with a sneer, scraping his thumbnail into Steve’s chin. “I do, sugar. I really do. That’s what I like. You wanna call me that?” His eyebrows flickered like it was a genuine question. Like there was a real choice. “You into that?”

Steve nodded. “Yeah,” he said, breathy. “Yeah, I’m really into that. Jesus. Please.” He shifted his weight. “Please can I come, daddy.”

Rumlow smiled down. He looked so beautiful when he was happy and that cruel smile got wider. “Are you a good boy, though? You a good boy for daddy, sugar?”

“Yes. Yes.” Steve nodded hard, Rumlow’s fingers still on his chin. “I’m a good boy. I’m a good boy for daddy.” He gulped hard. “Please let me come.”

Rumlow cocked his head like he was considering. He let go of Steve’s chin and raised his arms up above his head. “Heh. Nice,” he said, with the stretch that pulled half his shirt out of his belt. “But you need to practise that. Maybe next time you’ll beg sweet enough to get off.” Steve just stared at him, words lost. “Now,” said Rumlow. “Now, I’ll tell you what you’re gonna do. You’re gonna kiss me sweet. Here. On the cheek and you’re gonna say, thank you daddy for not letting me come.” He took Steve by the shoulders.

“Why would I thank you for that?”

“Because it turns you on to do what I want, sugar. Now, come on. Thank you daddy, for not letting me come. Thank you for controlling me.” Get on the floor. Rumlow shoved Steve downwards. 

Steve fell forward onto all fours. He moaned. Every part of his goddamn uniform itched like fire now. “Please. You can’t do this, you can’t. Daddy.”

“You’ll be surprised what I can do to you, sugar. And what you want me to do.” Rumlow squatted down. There were tears in Steve’s eyes. He looked up at Rumlow and Rumlow tapped his own stubbled cheek. “Right here, sugar. Give daddy a kiss right here.”

And Steve lifted his head, tears falling, and kissed Rumlow there and said, “Thank you. Thank you, daddy for not letting me come.”

Later, at home, Steve took a shower. His dick was so hard. After he was cleaned up he knelt down on the floor of the stall and let water run over him. And he thought about Rumlow’s boot on the back of his neck.

*  
“Come on my face,” Steve said, voice rough, hoarse from crying out. 

“What was that, darlin’?” Rumlow’s breath on Steve’s neck was hot and close. 

Steve shuddered. “Come on my face. Daddy. Before you go, please come on my face.”

He could hear the bastard smile, the horrible triumph spreading over his face like a disease. Rumlow had won. He knew he’d won. “Yeah, that’s the nice shit I’m talking about,” Rumlow said into the crook of Steve’s neck. “You still know how to be a good boy, don’tcha?”

Rumlow unlocked the cuffs. Steve turned over and Rumlow straddled his shoulders. 

“Bite those lips, sugar. Look pretty for me.”

By the time Rumlow shot over Steve’s face, Steve was crying with shame.


	6. Chapter 6

The next day Rumlow walked into Steve’s office and Steve’s mouth went dry. He felt like he’d spent the whole night lying awake, unable to think about anything apart from his throbbing dick, apart from how much he wanted to touch himself, to come. But he hadn’t. He’d done what he’d been told. He wasn’t to come until Rumlow said he could.

Rumlow leaned back against the office door, smirking at Steve. He looked good. Black shirt, black pants, the muscles in his arms, the lines on his face. Steve couldn’t say quite what it was. It was all of these things. And it was none of them - it was what he said and what he did. Steve’s dick twitched. “How you doing, sugar,” Rumlow said, grinning wider, which made it all worse. “How’s your day?”

“You know…” Steve stopped and swallowed. His nipples had snapped into tight hard peaks at the sound of Rumlow’s voice. “You know what you’ve done, Brock. You know how I am.”

“Right, right,” said Rumlow, nodding as if he was just remembering the situation. “So that’s how it is?” His voice dropped a little lower. “And don’t call me that again. Now take your shirt off for me. Show me your tits.”

Steve’s eyes went to the door at Rumlow’s back. “You lock that?” he said. “You lock the door?”

Rumlow grabbed the door handle beside his hip and turned it. It opened. Rumlow looked over his shoulder, as he set it an inch ajar. “Nope,” he said. “Shirt off. Any more stalling and I'll leave you to have some more fun not touching your dick.”

Steve stared at the open door. “I can’t. Close the door and I will but I can’t with…” Steve stopped then as Rumlow turned around, as if to leave. “No wait!” Rumlow stopped. “Wait, wait, I’m doing it.”

As Steve took his shirt off, panting hard, Rumlow came nearer, leaving the door set slightly ajar. By the time he’d dropped it onto the floor, Rumlow was close enough to touch his chest. He trailed a finger from Steve’s throat, slowly, to the top of his pants. “Nice,” Rumlow breathed, soft and appreciative. “God, you really know how to make me want you. Fucking tease.” Rumlow let the back of his hand glide down over the tenting fabric at Steve’s crotch; over Steve’s hard, aching dick. 

“Please,” Steve whispered, “are you gonna let me -“

Rumlow stopped Steve’s mouth with his free hand. “What, with the door open? You’re disgusting.” He slipped his fingers inside Steve’s waistband, letting the tips ghost along he top of Steve’s dripping cockhead. “”Where anyone could look in and see you? Yeah? That how you want it, sugar?” Steve moaned heavily behind Rumlow’s warm fingers and Rumlow pushed even further into Steve’s pants and let his fist coil around Steve’s dick. Steve moaned again and jerked up into it. “So fucking greedy.” Rumlow licked his top lip and pulled his hand away. He took his other hand from Steve’s mouth and began to unfasten Steve’s pants. “Let’s get you naked, sugar,” he said, his voice thick with desire. “Let’s get you naked right here in your office, where anyone can look in and see what a fucking slut you are.”

Steve tried to hold back another moan at that, but he couldn’t. He whispered, "Don’t,” but Rumlow didn’t even look at him. His dick was so hard and he couldn’t keep his hips still. His thighs shook as he let Rumlow strip him of his pants and underwear, stepping out of them, until he stood in just his boots and tags behind his big, serious desk.

Rumlow wadded up Steve’s underwear. “Here, I know you don’t want anyone to hear you moaning for my dick and look in through that door and see you. Let me help with that.” He lifted the fabric to Steve’s mouth, “Hold on to these for me, sugar.” 

Steve opened his mouth obediently and Rumlow pressed the underwear between his teeth. They didn’t taste of much at all, but Steve burned with the humiliation of being gagged with his own dirty laundry. His eyes were teary with shame, and everything Rumlow did was making him ache a little more, want touch a little more. 

“Now, sit yourself down, sugar.”

Steve sat. He looked up at Rumlow. “So you remember what I told you to do.” Rumlow leant back against the edge of Steve’s desk and lifted one booted foot onto Steve’s chair, shoving it between Steve’s legs until his thighs were forced wide. Rumlow’s eyes flashed with glee. “Nod if you remember.”

Steve looked at Rumlow’s boot nudging up between his spread thighs, pressing close to his hard, wet dick. He nodded.

“Come on then, sugar,” said Rumlow. “Get yourself off. Fucking get yourself off on my boot.”

Steve slipped his hips forward. As soon as his dick touched the dusty toe of Rumlow’s boot he jolted, head rolling back, a moan pushing out through the fabric in his mouth. He barely touched himself for four days. Even this was luxurious, intense and pleasurable. He rubbed his dick against the rough, awkward leather.

“That’s it, sugar,” said Rumlow, gazing down. There was a soft flush to his cheeks, a little wet on his bottom lip. “That’s it. Grind on it. Grind on daddy’s fucking boot. Show me how much you want it.”

Steve looked at Rumlow. He moaned loudly through the gag and tried to look desperate in the eyes. Just behind Rumlow he could see the open door, the corridor outside. Anyone could see in if they walked past. Anyone. It made his cock flicker like an electric pulse to think of it. “Oh yeah,” said Rumlow as Steve writhed for him. “Yeah, yeah, thats a good boy.”

It was so good, too good. The leather was hard and the angle was uncomfortable, but Steve needed to come so much, he was so, so close, so quick, looking up at Rumlow, drooling around his own underwear stuffed in his mouth. It was just moments before he was jolting hard, coming ribbons and ribbons of white over Rumlow’s boot. The orgasm that shot through him was longer and harder than any he could remember.

Before Steve had even stopped shaking and gasping, Rumlow was delicately taking the fabric from his mouth and saying, “You gonna clear up that mess without being told, or am I gonna have to punish you, sugar?”

*

Steve didn’t speak to Rumlow as he got off the bed and pushed past him into the bathroom. His stomach was ice. He ran the shower for a long time, scrubbing his face in particular. 

This had been, he was certain, the worst, most degrading, most disgusting night of his life. And he didn’t want it to end.

He didn’t want it to end.

When he came out of the shower, wrapped in just the tiniest towel he could find, Rumlow was gone. But as he sat down on the bed, his phone buzzed with an incoming text.

Only Rumlow used that number anymore.

_Do you want me to stop?_

*

Steve lowered his head and carefully licked every trace of come from Rumlow’s boots. He’d never tasted his own semen before but it wasn’t so very different from Rumlow’s. The taste was not pleasant, salty-bitter and faintly soapy, with a tang of the leather beneath it that was was musky and sour, and he was still shaking from his orgasm, still quivering a little from the aftershocks, as his tongue pushed over boot, but what made the task an intense pleasure was Rumlow watching him. Rumlow watching him with breath heavy, even a little achey, even with a moan of desire here and there. When Steve realised Rumlow’s soft, half-hidden moans came when he turned his head so Rumlow could see his tongue sliding over the leather of the boot, he did that more often. He liked the way this was turning Rumlow on. When he was done he lifted his head, showed Rumlow his swollen mouth and sticky face. He licked his lips.

“Christ,” Rumlow muttered, staring. “Fucking christ.” He reached out and took Steve’s chin with an arm that shook, just a little, and tilted it upwards.“Get over your desk now, sugar,” he said, soft. “It’s time your daddy fucked you.”

Steve looked up at Rumlow, heart beating hard and fast. He looked over at the slightly open door. He looked at Rumlow’s dick, clearly hard in his pants. And he nodded without a word. 

Rumlow moved aside so Steve could stand and bend over his big desk. It was cold under his belly and his stirring dick was crushed against the slick surface of it. He reached over and grabbed the far side, looking out over the carpeted floor of his office and that slightly open door. 

After a second, Steve gasped as Rumlow’s fingers, slick with something, touched his ass, ran smoothly down the crease of it, flickering, pausing for just an extra second as they skimmed past his hole. He transferred the wet on his fingers onto Steve, making him smooth and slippery. He made the same movement again and again until Steve started to gasp each time Rumlow’s fingers grazed his hole. 

“You want something, sugar?” Rumlow said, letting his fingers pauses a little longer, running in a quick circle around Steve’s rim. 

“Please,” Steve said and his voice was weak and soft, “please, put them in me.”

There was a smile of satisfaction in Rumlow’s voice. “You ever had anything in you before?”

“No, no, but I want it. God, please.”

Rumlow rubbed the pad of one finger across Steve’s hole, again and again. Slow. He leant forward, pressing his clothed chest to Steve’s bare back. His mouth was at Steve’s ear. Steve grunted at the hot weight that pressed his dick harder into the edge of the desk. “Beg for it. You remember how to do that.”

“I am begging, I am,” Steve said, the words fast and garbled. Stupidly desperate. “I am, I am, please, please. Put it in me.”

Rumlow’s hot tongue slicked over Steve’s ear. “That ain’t begging. Say my fucking name, sugar.”

“Brock, please.”

Rumlow slipped his hand across Steve’s ass and grabbed a handful of it hard, digging in with his fingernails. Steve screamed, more from shock than pain. “Don’t fucking fuck with me. I told you not to fucking call me that again. You know what I want.”

“Please,” Steve whined. Horrified and delighted. “Please, daddy, please. Put them in me, daddy.” He ground his dick down on the desk as he said it.

Rumlow’s chuckle of triumph was hot in his ear, making his guts ache with shame, but he got what he wanted. Rumlow shoved two slippery fingers right into him. 

Steve moaned and bucked back hard. 

“No,” said Rumlow, twisting his free hand into Steve’s hair to hold him still. “You take what your daddy gives you.”

“Please,” Steve spluttered, his face pressed down against the desk now. “More. More, daddy, harder.” 

Rumlow ignored him and slowly and carefully fucked into him, making him writhe and keen and shudder, never quite giving him enough, until Steve was frantic. 

Finally, when, with a hum of satisfaction, Rumlow let go Steve’s hair and moved, Steve couldn’t think what he was going to do. He didn’t move into a position that suggested fucking. He slid onto the floor behind Steve. All Steve could imagine was that Rumlow might somehow be inspecting him, peering at his aching, needy hole. That thought made him shiver.

And then he felt it. Wet and hot. Rumlow’s tongue. Rumlow’s tongue slid over him and he yelped out with shocked pleasure. 

“That’s right, sugar, that’s right.” Rumlow’s voice was hoarse with lust. “You’re gonna like this. Trust me.” 

Steve moaned in response and Rumlow licked him again, slow and firm. Steve tried to push back and Rumlow grabbed both his ass cheeks and pinned him him place, spreading him wider. Held like this Steve couldn’t control anything. When Rumlow licked him again it was softer and quicker. He built a slow rhythm as Steve, helpless, pressed his face down onto his desk and whimpered and whimpered with shame and pleasure.

Rumlow’s tongue was relentless. Steve’s dick was trapped underneath his own body hard and leaking and rubbing against the table top. He realised, with a kind of sick horror and desperate want, that, if Rumlow kept this up, this long, soft, wet lapping at his ass, he would come from it. He would come, like this, on Rumlow’s tongue. The thought made his stomach clench with humiliation. He whined harder and pressed his face down onto the cool wood.

But just before, just when a single lap or perhaps two more, would have made Steve’s dick shoot all over his desk just from the friction of Rumlow’s hot, slick tongue, the licking stopped. The licking stopped and without a moment for Steve to draw breath, Rumlow stood and roughly shoved his dick into Steve with a nasty grunt of satisfaction.

Steve gasped out; Rumlow’s dick was so much bigger than his two fingers had been, and hotter than his wet mouth. Steve stretched around it, burned and gasped as he felt Rumlow’s weight on his back again and listened to a deep sob of pleasure for a while before he knew he was making the sound himself.

Rumlow fucked him - finally - and it was so, so good. His eyes swam. He knew the door was still open, but he couldn’t really see or feel or register anything but sweet, white burn. It was a shamefully small number of thrusts before he jolted and came. Three, perhaps four. His dick jerking and splattering under his body as he moaned and moaned. 

Rumlow fucked him harder after he’d come, the heavy drag of it rubbing his over-stimulated cock along the smooth wood of his desk. Steve screamed out, said, “Please, please, daddy. Stop, I can’t… I can’t…” But Rumlow didn’t stop. Rumlow growled and fucked harder still. Fucked him on and on. Down into the desk and into agony.

Steve was sweating and shaking, sobbing, when Rumlow finally grunted and came inside him - slick and careless and hot. When Rumlow drew his cock out it slithered free with an obscene wet sound. Steve was so slippery and open from the lube and the come and the fucking, he felt as if his ass was gaping shamefully like a hungry bird’s mouth. 

“Did you like that, sugar?” Rumlow whispered, breath damp in Steve’s ear, hand stroked Steve’s ass. “Did you like the part when you begged me and begged me to stop and I wouldn’t stop? Because I did. That made me come. That made daddy come.”

“No,” Steve whispered into the desktop.

Rumlow’s chuckle vibrated in his ear. “Fucking liar. We both know you coulda tossed me across the room if you really didn’t like it. Tell me you wanted it.”

Steve swallowed. Was that true? It hadn’t even occurred to him to fight Rumlow off. Perhaps that meant he had wanted it. He wasn’t sure. “Please,” he said, unsure what else to say.

“Say you wanted it,” Rumlow said and pressed his weight down, pushing Steve hard into the table. “Say you fucking wanted it.”

“I did,” Steve whispered. There was a hard lump in his throat almost like he might cry. But he was sure Rumlow must be right. “I did want it. I said stop but I didn’t mean it.”

“That’s right. You didn’t want me to stop even when you were begging, did you? You never want this to stop do you?”

“Never,” said Steve. “Never stop, daddy.”

“Even when you beg?”

“Even when I beg.”

*

In the hotel Steve checked the time. It was 4.30am. He typed something into his cellphone and hit send.

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah. I have no idea where the later storyline fits into canon timelines either. It's clearly post CA:WS and yet, Rumlow's not injured. AU where he got out the building in time? Or, I dunno, just go with it for the porn. It'll all get totally Jossed by Cap3 anyway. (But, hey, Cap3's gonna kill me so that's not an issue.)
> 
> My tumblr http://mathildia.tumblr.com/
> 
> My occasional obsessing over this ship http://mathildia.tumblr.com/tagged/steve-x-rumlow


End file.
